That's not how he shows me he loves me,
by placing some jewels 'round my neck,
or taking a moment of his precious time
to write me a six figure check.

Instead he invests something better:
his time, his attention, his thought.
It makes me feel special and nicely unique.
It's not something he could have bought.

He holds me and gently caresses
the laugh lines that form near my eyes.
He kisses my fingers and tells me
such tender and wonderful lies.

He says that I'm pretty and calls me a girl
and sure make me feel like one.
In spite of the stress or the cares of the day
he teases and helps me have fun.

We hold hands and giggle at life's ironies
and laugh at our own private jokes.
He picks me wild flowers, arranges them nicely
in vases -- well, bottles from cokes.

And there could not be in this valley or land
a wealthier couple that we,
for there's not a store or a mall or a shop
that sells what the man gives to me.

The gestures, expressions, the look in his eyes,
they're things that will never grow old,
a freshly made bed, a hot cup of coffee,
warmth when the world has grown cold.

He does so for me, and I do for him
and those are the gifts that we treasure,
and we needn't wait for a special occasion
for happiness or to get pleasure.

It's there for the taking -- no waiting, no asking,
no refunds and no guarantees.
The gifts we exchange every day of the year
include "thank you," "I love you," and "please.